Desperate Times
by Bronsky Ellia
Summary: Just another attempt at time-travel tomarry with an unexpected side-kick to spice the mixture
1. An Unexpected Ally

"Potter! Potter, wake up, damn it!"

Harry opened his eyes with a groan, clutching his head in both hands, and glared at the person, who was moments ago shouting in his ear in panicked voice and shaking him by the shoulders violently.

"Malfoy!" spat Harry out angrily. "What..?" he didn't get to finish his sentence.

Malfoy suddenly clasped a hand over his mouth with an even more panicked hiss of "Be quiet, will you?" and glanced over his shoulder.

Harry sent him a death glare and tried to shake off the hand, then promptly bit it, narrowing his eyes and scrunching his nose in disgust.

"Shit!" Malfoy cursed under his breath, shaking the hand with bite marks on it, and scowled at Harry. "Are you a dog, Potter?!" he hissed indignantly, grabbed him by the shoulders, yanked up to his feet and steered to the nearest classroom, muttering more curses under his nose.

Malfoy pushed Harry inside and quickly locked the door, adding several layers of spells upon it immediately, his wand movements jerky with nerves.

Muttering "I am so going to regret this later!" under his nose, Malfoy turned to face frowning Harry again.

"Potter, you may not believe it, but I am sorry for earlier," Malfoy said scowling and motioned at Harry's temple. The big angry bruise was already forming there, Harry's head throbbing with dull pain from it. Harry winced, rubbing at his ribs, which had been also bruised, his mouth corners twitching from the unpleasant sensation in his chest. "I'd got carried away."

"What do you want from me?" still clutching at the front of his own robes with one hand, Harry raised a wand and pointed it right between Draco's eyes. The latter almost went cross-eyed in attempt to see it, the tip glowing red slightly and heat emanating from Harry's wand in unpleasant waves and washing over Draco's face.

"Look, Potter, I am going to tell you all now," Draco gulped nervously, still eyeing the wand pointed at his face, "but can you, maybe, lower your wand a bit?" he pleaded.

"No," was the short raspy reply.

"Fine," Draco pursed his lips into thin line and, moving very slowly, produced his own wand from his sleeve, where he'd stuffed it earlier. Still slowly, as if trying not to spook a jumpy hare, he dropped the wand to the floor and shuffled it with his foot towards Harry. "Here. I am unarmed, see?" he glanced at Harry, before again returning his attention to the other's wand, pointed at him.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I need you to listen to me," Draco gave a nonchalant shrug. "I figured, you'd more likely listen if I am unarmed," he let out an unsure half-smile. "So, will you listen?" he pointedly looked at Harry's wand, "and lower that? Please?" cringing and grimacing he added with even less surety.

Still eyeing him warily, Harry slowly lowered the wand.

"How can I be sure you don't have another wand somewhere on you?" narrowing his eyes in suspicion, asked Harry.

"You don't," Draco agreed. "But I don't have one," he gave another shrug and winced, his hand shooting to his opposite shoulder and hissing lowly. "That was a nasty one," he admitted, tentatively touching the ripped bloodied sleeve of his robe and scrunching his face, a shuddering breath leaving him. "I don't like the sight of my blood," he muttered, his eyes going glassy for a brief moment, before remembered himself and looked back at Harry. "If you'd like I'd make a Wizard's Oath to not hurt you," he suggested, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Wh-what?!" Harry widened his eyes at him in bewilderment. "You'd do that?"

"Potter, don't you get it yet? I am trying to be serious here. It's important!" Draco's voice raised in alarm.

"Start talking then," Harry snapped, and, motioning with his wand towards Draco's shoulder, added with malice: "before you faint on me."

Instead of speaking up, Malfoy let out a strained breath and ran his good hand through his usually combed hair in nervous gesture, making a mess out of loosened blond strands.

"Malfoy," Harry growled threateningly.

"I, um… You see, I didn't have much choice, "Draco mumbled. "I was..," he gulped, "I was ordered… to do something…"

"To do what?" Harry asked sharply. "By who?" he clarified, though understanding was already forming in his eyes.

"By… By Him," Draco nodded at the unasked question. "The Dark Lord," his voice dropped to a whisper.

Harry nodded as well, then jerked his chin up, urging Draco to continue.

"I… I cannot do it," his features twisted with some strange emotion, Draco murmured, lowering his eyes. Harry thought, he'd seen a glimpse of shame and uncertainty in them.

"So?" Harry prompted.

"So I tried to find another way. A way out," Draco snorted and shook his head. "As if there could be a way out of this mess," he muttered, seemingly to himself, than looked directly at Harry. "You. My only hope is you."

Harry flinched back, brows raising in surprise and disbelief.

"Me?" he echoed in a harsh voice.

"Yeah," Malfoy nodded fervently. "If anyone could defeat Him at all, that'd be you. Or He wouldn't be so hell-bent on killing you, right?" his gaze lit with hope. "Can you kill Him, Potter?"

Harry shook his head minutely and squared his shoulders in a shrug, indecision written on his face.

"I don't think I am able, Malfoy," he admitted. "He is, what, fifty years older?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "Do you think a mere sixth year student has enough knowledge and power to defeat the most feared Dark Wizard of all time?"

"I don't know, Potter," muttered Malfoy, lowering his eyes in defeat. "I thought, may be..."

"What? I have some secret strategy or something?" Harry snorted. "If it was that simple..." he sighed and put away his wand under the attentive gaze of the Slytherin in front him, shaking his head. "No, Malfoy. I don't have any aces up my sleeve, unfortunately. Everyone simply assumes that, but there is nothing here," he raised his hands up, either in defeat or in demonstration of empty sleeves. "If you'd put your stakes on me, you may have just lost this bet without a battle, quite possibly," Harry grumbled darkly. "Now get your wand and let me out," he grunted. "We'd better go to the infirmary, before it's too late," Harry furrowed his brows, eyeing Malfoy's face, which had been going more pale with each passing minute.

"In a moment, Potter," Malfoy muttered, tiredly lowering himself on the nearest chair. "I haven't got to the most important bit yet."

Harry, who was already at the door, assessing the wards on it critically, turned to him with a question in his eyes.

"I'd gathered, you'd be unable to kill... um... defeat the Dark Lord," Malfoy said, suddenly more calm, than he had been earlier, and at the same time looking more drained of energy, his eyes taking a glassy look in them, dullness appearing on his pointed face. "I was just asking, if you have what it takes in you – to win over him, I mean."

"I've said already," Harry puffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes at Malfoy. "There's nothing I can do against a Wizard – any Wizard – three times my age."

"That's it, Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed triumphantly.

"What?" Harry blinked at him in confusion.

"See, I'd thought something like that, too. The only weak spot that the Dark Lord has is himself!"

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry came back from the door and towered over Malfoy, who was slightly swaying on his chair, but nevertheless looking up at him pleadingly.

"You cannot defeat the Dark Lord, Potter, but you can try defeating Tom Riddle," Malfoy said quizzically.

"Come again?" Harry demanded, puzzled.

"Time-travel, Potter," Malfoy muttered.

Harry's brows raised almost to his hair at that, then he was lowering his face to look directly into Malfoy's.

"What are you blabbering about, Malfoy?" he asked, his wand suddenly again in his fist, its tip, like before, glowing furious red with unreleased magic earning to be unleashed.

"You should be capable enough to at least try defeating him, if he is a mere teenager himself. The Dark Lord, I mean." ignoring Harry's wand almost in his face, Malfoy fished something from inside his robe. "Here. We can then return back with this." He held out a small book, or rather a journal in thick brownish leather binding.

"What is it?" Harry examined the item in Malfoy's hands with suspicion, not touching it.

"I've found a ritual allowing to travel in time farther, then mere minutes. You can off Tom Riddle before he rises to full power and gains an upper hand in spells and knowledge," Malfoy supplied.

"I am not doing any strange rituals with you," Harry stepped back, his gaze wary. "If you want you can have the honours," he snorted. "Go to the forties and 'off' him yourself." He turned back to the door. "And now remove the wards," Harry finished over his shoulder with a hint of a threat to his voice.

"I can't kill him, Potter! That's the thing!" Malfoy exclaimed with despair. "I was not trained for it," he seemingly deflated, slumping down in the chair.

"Neither was I!" Harry snarled, whirling around. "I don't go killing people around! I am not a murderer!" he shouted enraged. "I don't think I can kill Voldemort, much less – his teenaged version, who hasn't done anything yet!" He rubbed at his eyes furiously. "You'd better forget this whole idea and crawl back to your Master, Malfoy," Harry's tone returned to more calm one. "I am not buying your rubbish about switching sides," he snorted. "And go to Madame Pomfrey, already," he winced, pointing at Malfoy's shoulder with his chin. "I don't know any spells to heal this. Or any other wounds, at that matter," he muttered and went to the door, carefully touching his swollen temple and grimacing at the sensations.

"Too late, Potter," Malfoy called out behind him. "Or rather, too early," he corrected.

"What do you mean?" sensing a sudden change in Slytherin's tone, Harry tensed, his hand half-raised, ready to cancel Malfoy's wards at the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at Malfoy, who shrugged.

"We're already here," the Slytherin said simply.

"Where?"

"Not 'where', 'when'," Malfoy responded as a way of explanation. "If I hadn't make a mistake, it should be October, 31. Of 1943." He looked at Harry with daring, defiant expression.

"What?!" Harry was outraged. "You'd dragged me to the forties already?! I didn't agree to it!" his eyes flashed dangerously.

"I didn't have other options," Malfoy had the decency to look ashamed. "I didn't want to bring Death Eaters to school, nor did I want to kill Dumbledore, as I was ordered to," he closed his eyes in tiredness and defeat. "You can shout all you want at me, Potter, but I'm not taking us back before you do something with that madman. I am no killer myself," Draco swallowed with difficulty. "I think he knows this, too. May he planned for me to fail trying, don't know. Maybe it amuses him to issue orders, which are impossible to be fulfilled, and kill those, who failed him. Frankly, I don't care."

"Malfoy, you're an idiot!" Harry snapped. "If you learned of the Dark Lord's name, you should have found out, that he was a genius, too! Even at sixteen, he was a force to be reckoned with! I hardly think I have a chance against Tom Riddle, either," he looked at Malfoy pointedly. "And haven't you heard, that one shouldn't meddle with time? It's too dangerous, you could be wiping yourself from existence in the process," Harry widened his eyes for impact.

"I am fine with it, Potter," Draco sighed. "Don't say that you are not, having a chance to put a stop to that madness," Malfoy added, seeing indecision flickering in Potter's eyes for a second. "Listen, if we're already here, why not to try it? Even if we don't manage to stop him, I'd rather stay here, then return," Malfoy looked up at Harry. "I daresay, you'd want the same, too," he murmured quieter, hiding the journal inside his robes. "We don't need to kill him. Maybe, just swaying him on his path would be enough," he muttered thoughtfully.

"How..?" Harry's head snapped up at his words, but he cut off, his face attaining the thoughtful expression as well. "Maybe," he started slowly, "we can..." Harry trailed off unsure, then shook his head. "It's not going to work, Malfoy," he grumbled. "I don't think it would," with another shake of his head he almost whispered.

"What are you thinking of, Potter?" Malfoy demanded harshly.

"Dumbledore," Harry began, "he was convinced, that I have..." he abruptly closed his mouth shut, pursing his lips. "I don't think I'll tell you," his suspicion returned with full force, when Malfoy's back straightened, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "I don't know that you won't run to your Master," he sneered the last word, "with that information."

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly.

"I will not! What can I do to prove to you, that I won't run to him with this?!" he exclaimed in distress.

"You can give me that Wizard's Oath now," Harry suggested snidely. "Not that I'd trust you not to make a loophole in it, mind you," he added acerbically.

Malfoy nodded eagerly.

"Okay. You can word it yourself, so there wouldn't be any loopholes," he supplied carefully.

Harry furrowed his brow in contemplation and felt silent for a while, mulling over the possible words in his head.

After almost five minutes of pregnant silence, his eyes finally lit with enthusiasm.

"Fine." And he felt silent again.

Malfoy fidgeted slightly under his intense stare, but not dared to say anything.

Another couple of minutes passed.

Then Harry narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin.

"You shall not harm me in any way, physical or magical, while we are here, in this time, but shall assist in all the ways possible to achieve our mutual goal of stopping Voldemort and preventing the Wizarding War of the nineties," he offered.

"Okay, I got it," Malfoy breathed out. He moved from the chair to retrieve his wand from the floor and walked up to Harry, then swished his wand in an arch above their heads and started on the words of the Oath: "I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, the heir to the Malfoy's line, swear on my magic that I shall not harm Harry James Potter in any way, being it either physical or magical, while we reside in the nineteen-forties or at any other time, and I shall assist the said Harry James Potter in all ways and means within limits of my human and magical powers to achieve our mutual aim of stopping the Dark Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, from doing any harm, be it either physical, psychical or magical, to all those, residing in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds, and preventing the Wizarding War of the nineteen-nineties; also, if the need arises I shall put my life on the line in exchange for the life of the said Harry James Potter and in order to achieve our mutual aim." He let out a shuddering breath and finished: "So mote it be."

Harry was staring at him with even the more intensity, then before, his jaws moving tensely. He blinked, when Draco finished and echoed him: "So mote it be."

They both repeated Draco's earlier motion with their wands, raising them above their heads and swishing in wide arches. The tips of the wands let out white sparks, which gathered in a glowing white band of light, first circling the wands, then shifting to the heads of the teens and circling them, too. Lastly the band expanded, transforming to a bridge between their chests and dissipated into them, just opposite their hearts, after separating right in the middle.

Then Harry rounded on Draco with indignant baring of his teeth: "Why did you changed it?!"

Draco dropped his wand on the floor, it cluttering merrily on the stone floor, and gave an uncomfortable shrug, before going back to his chair and collapsing in it with a soft tired sigh.

"I just thought it more fitting. More accurate. And I really don't want for any harm to come to you, but rather to help you – be it here, or in our time. There was that loophole there, you'd been afraid of. I could have ran off with your secrets the minute we set foot in our time," he smiled a bit sheepishly.

"Fine," Harry grumbled. "Now, I was saying, there is something we can try. Try, mind you. I am not sure it can work, but at least we can use the situation to our advantage."

"And what it is?" Draco inquired, narrowing his eyes.

"Not now," Harry shook his head, then pointed towards Draco's shoulder. "This looks uglier with any blood drop," he reminded.

Draco winced.

"I can manage," he uttered, gritting his teeth. "Tell me."

"If I tell you, will you bring down the wards at the door?" Harry asked in a tired tone. "If you didn't notice I have my own injuries to attend to, as well. Thanks to you."

"Deal. Now tell me." Draco demanded.

Harry rolled his eyes at him.

"Dumbledore believes that my strength in this is my _love_ ," he made a face. "I had thought that was a lot of rubbish. But now that we're here..." he trailed off uncomfortable, averting his eyes. "I don't know how to use this against him, yet. Maybe, it's still a lot of rubbish and we don't have anything at all. But we need to start somewhere, and as you gave me no choice," Harry shrugged. "And now, will you, please, bring down the wards? Before you faint?" he added, when Malfoy sank in his chair, all hope seemingly leaving him, his face so white, it seemed almost translucent.

"Love?" Malfoy snorted weakly. "And here I thought you really did have some secret!" he whispered, his limp body going so weak, it threatened to slip from the chair.

"Malfoy!" barked Harry, launching forward, and grabbed the Slytherin at the last moment, before he could fall to the floor completely. Putting Draco's uninjured hand around his own shoulders, Harry lifted him upright with a grunt and led him to the door. "The incantation, Malfoy!" he growled. "The wards!"

"My wand," Draco muttered weakly. "My magic's the key," he gritted, when Harry shot him a nasty look.

"What an idiot!" Harry muttered darkly, before promptly dropping Draco beside the door and going back to where Draco's wand still remained on the floor. He returned with the item in question, grumbling something along the lines of "not your babysitter" under his nose, and held the wand out to Draco: "Here."

Draco accepted the wand with a tired sigh, but managed to cancel the wards only on his second try.

"Hope, they'd first tend to sick ones, and then ask questions," Harry mumbled to himself, seeing Draco collapsing with a soft groan after the last movement of his wand and a soft click of the door lock opening.

Harry cursed under his breath, leaning down to Malfoy and again swinging his hand up and around his own shoulders, then lifted the limp body up.

"Stubborn moron," he grumbled, "'m not going to carry you," but despite his own words he began to slowly drag Malfoy towards the Hospital Wing, muttering insults and crude words in the process.

They almost reached their destination, when Harry suddenly heard a quiet muttering:

"Are you even gay, Pot-head?"

"What?!" Harry spluttered with indignation, dropping Malfoy on the floor again in his surprise. He opened and closed his mouth several times, no sound escaping him, before he finally found his voice. "What did you say?!" he snarled, lowering down his face at the level with Malfoy's own.

"Potter, were you going to hook the Dark Lord with some poor girl, or what?" Draco drawled, not seemingly bothered by their position. "' _Love_ ', you say," he snorted disbelievingly and shook his head. "Or were you under the impression, that I would willingly spread my legs for him?" he made a grimace of disgust. "Just so you know, I already have someone!" he said haughtily.

"Someone?" Harry blinked in confusion.

"Yeah. Someone. I don't think it'd work just because of that Oath. That's not ' _love_ ', that's obligation. The feeling," Draco sneered the word, "should be mutual," still scrunching his face he waived a hand toward Harry. "Hence my question. Are you even gay?" he repeated.

Harry looked at him with horror. Gulped. Shook his head, then gave a tiny little nod.

Draco quirked an amused brow at that, smirking.

"I… I don't know, may be, never tried" Harry admitted quietly, surprising even himself by that statement, it seemed, judging by his bewildered look.

"We can work with that," Draco finally said after a long minute of silent contemplation.

Harry glanced at him nervously, then hold out his hand, pursing his lips.

"Infirmary?" he suggested.

Draco sighed, but allowed himself to be lifted up.

Supporting him by the waist, and having allowed to put a hand around his shoulders, like before, Harry led him the rest of the way towards the Hospital Wing, muttering again "hope, it's treatment first, questions later".


	2. Brothers in Blood

**A/N:** This chapter turned out to be shorter than I had intended, but the end of the chapter is right where I feel it should be anyway. It is mostly filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy reading certain parts in there just like I enjoyed writing them :p

* * *

 **Notation:**

* _speaking in French_ *

And I don't think it is proper to write in actual French, as the speakers percieve it as they would their own mothertongue, hence the words are English, but formatted to indicate that they are not.  
It's lousy explanation, I know, but you'll get what I mean when you'll read the exact part which this explanation concerns :p

* * *

They have almost reached the Hospital Wing, when Harry stopped in his tracks, cursing softly and looking ahead. Malfoy, who was leaning heavily on him, raised his head from Harry's shoulder, where it was resting a moment ago, and tensed, looking in the same direction.

Harry unfroze and approached the entrance to the infirmary slowly, warily eyeing the man, standing almost in the door frame, blocking their path. The man, sporting auburn short beard and hair of the same color and dressed in purple robes sprinkled with yellow stars and green crescent moons, was talking with someone inside the doors, so he still didn't notice the approaching pair.

"Dumbledore," muttered Malfoy lowly. "I forgot..." he winced.

"I hoped we won't see him until later," Harry responded in the same low tone. Squaring his shoulders, he made last couple of steps towards the doors.

"Mind, if we pass through, sir?" Harry asked politely, after clearing his throat.

Dumbledore flinched and turned around with a surprised look, which turned into a frown at seeing the two of them.

"And who might you be, young gentlemen?" he inquired with a raised brow. "I don't think I have seen you before," he added pensively.

Instead of answering Draco swayed on his feet and Harry steadied him, gritting his teeth.

"Pardon us, sir, but could you allow us to be treated firstly?" Harry pleaded.

Dumbledore squinted his eyes in suspicion, but nevertheless stepped to the side, giving them the space to walk through.

"Effie," he called out, "You have patients!"

A plump woman in her mid-thirties with short sand-colored hair, dressed as a nurse, hurriedly came out from the door at the other end of the room upon his call.

"We will answer the questions you probably have as soon as we can, sir," said Harry over his shoulder, going further into the ward, when the nurse gestured towards the beds.

"Very well," pursing his lips in contemplation, Dumbledore followed them inside.

"What happened?" the nurse asked in a professional, but still caring voice.

"We sparred and got carried away a bit," Harry mumbled, his eyes downcast in fake embarrassment.

"Help your friend to this bed, young man. Are you injured as well?"

"A little," admitted Harry, seemingly even more embarrassed.

"Well, what are you waiting for?! Lay down yourself, will you, I'll get to you in a minute," the nurse ordered him sternly, taking out her wand. "I'm afraid, I need to remove those, gentlemen," she swished her wand in a brisk gesture, before either Harry or Draco could complain, leaving them both only in their trousers, their robes, shirts and sweaters flying off to the side, landing on the floor in untidy heap.

The nurse turned her attention to Malfoy's injuries, leaving Harry to shudder from the drought, before he remembered, that he was sitting on top of the blanket, and put it around himself.

While nurse bustled around Draco, Dumbledore came up to them, sparing a quick calculating glance to the heap of clothes on the floor with two neck-ties at the top it, one of them being in Griffindor colors, the other – in Slytherin'.

"Well, young man, I suppose, introductions are in order," Dumbledore said promptly, looking Harry in the eye.

Harry shifted on the bed uncomfortably under the scrutiny and rubbed his forehead, frowning. What he should tell Dumbledore? Telling the truth, of course, was out of the question. It was too dangerous to reveal, that he and Malfoy were from the other time, of that Harry was certain. But what should he tell then? All of this was so sudden! He was totally unprepared!

Dumbledore coughed, attempting to attract his attention and raised a brow in anticipation.

"State your name and House, young man," he said sternly.

"Harry," came the mumbled reply. "Just Harry."

"So, Mr. Just, from what House do you come from?" Dumbledore's next question was muffled by a loud snort from the second bed.

Harry paused for a moment, a cover story already forming in his head, his eyes alighting with mirth over it.

"Neither I, nor my brother were sorted yet," he replied. There was a groan from the other bed, when he mentioned the sibling bond. "I know it is already a bit late in the year, but we weren't going to come here at first. See, our parents taught us at home, but..." he trailed off, tremor lacing his voice at the end of the phrase. "They..." he scrunched his nose up, trying to fake tears and at the same time hold back his laughter from Malfoy's utter shock, boarding on disgust, when Draco heard the claim of them being brothers. Bringing his hands to his face to hide a smile, Harry continued in the muffled voice, "Our home-town was under attack. Grindelwald," he clarified. "We fled from Grindelwald's men by port-key that Father has made. I suppose, Mother and Father are dead by now," Harry finished with a dry sob. "We heard, that Hogwarts is the safest place, so decided to come here."

"I see," muttered Dumbledore, then patted Harry on the back awkwardly. "You made the right choice, Mr. Just. Hogwarts always welcomes those in need of a shelter. What about those neck-ties?" he suddenly asked.

"I tried to cheer Harry up a bit, so I've transfigured them," Draco piped in. "We talked of what Houses we might end up in," he explained.

"And what's your name, my boy?" Dumbledore interjected.

"Draco," wincing slightly, responded Malfoy. "Draco Just," he added with a sigh, sending a nasty smirk towards Harry, who simply showed his tongue behind the headmaster's back, quickly turning away to the nurse, who finally finished with Draco's wound and other injuries and came to him with a disapproving look in her eyes.

"We didn't really spar, ma'am," Harry admitted, "That was Grindelwald's troops. You don't really think I'd hurt my own twin so much, do you?" he smirked at Draco's distressed face, hardly refraining from winking at him. The nurse waived her wand around his mid-torso, muttering incantation after the incantation, her frown deepening.

"Mr. Just, I am surprised you are still conscious," she said surprised. "Several broken ribs are not 'a little' injury, and one of them almost pierced your lung. How are you still talking is beyond me. And this," her wand came into contact with Harry's bruised temple carefully, "can indicate a severe concussion. Do you fell nausea? Light-headed?"

"Hmm," Harry responded wordlessly and shrugged. "I might have high tolerance, ma'am," he muttered. "Or maybe too much stress," Harry supplied, sending an angry look at Draco.

"Fine. You need to stay here for a night. Both of you. Albus, I think their Sorting and other matters can wait till tomorrow," the nurse gave Dumbledore the same stern look, as she did to the patients, then turned to Harry again, "and it is 'Miss Kirk' for you, not 'madam'," she corrected.

"Pardon me, Miss Kirk," Harry smiled sheepishly. "I only arrived here, you see, so don't know anyone yet."

"That's okay, Mr. Just," Miss Kirk nodded at him with a kind smile. "Now rest, both of you. I'll bring your potions later, now let the spells do the works first."

Harry let out a careful contended sigh and laid down, trying to move as little as possible. He might have not shown it earlier to Malfoy, but his injuries too were taking their toll on him. He closed his eyes, hoping to sleep for a while.

* * *

"Potter, you idiot!" Malfoy's furious hiss brought Harry out of his slumber some time later.

"Wha..?"

"Why had you gone and told that we're twins?" Malfoy spluttered indignantly.

"Dunno," Harry mumbled sleepily. "What does it matter?" his tone a bit more awake, Harry inquired.

Malfoy let out a frustrated sigh, which sounded more like a growl.

"Idiot!" he confirmed, shaking his head. "We do not even look alike!"

"It happens," Harry responded with a yawn. "What's your problem?"

"Our cover-story," Malfoy whispered, then suddenly grabbed his wand from a table beside him to cast silencing and privacy spells around their beds.

"No need to be so paranoid," Harry noted, when Malfoy started to add the second layer of wards.

"It's a habit," Draco mumbled embarrassed, putting away his wand. "So our story..." he trailed off pensively.

"I have already told the most of it," Harry reminded him.

"It's all in details," Draco argued.

"Details?"

"Yes. For instance, what're our parents names? Were they pure-blooded? Where exactly we came from? When were we born?" Draco started firing questions at Harry. "Those thing tend to spoil everything, you know. And what's with that stupid family name?!"

"It was not on purpose," Harry snorted. "I was trying to come up with a name, which is neither Potter, nor Malfoy. We can get in trouble with both of those, so I was looking for something mediocre, less famous, when Dumbledore went and helped me with his assumption. And sorry, I just couldn't refrain from making us brothers," Harry snickered. "It's hilarious! You should have seen your face!" he shook his head.

Malfoy winced.

"I hope you won't slip, _Harry,_ " Draco sneered his name. "We can't go calling each other by surnames, which are supposedly not even ours," he smirked at Harry, who was muttering curses and something like 'I'm an idiot!' under his nose. "Well, back to business."

"I came up with a name and main story, now it's your turn," Harry interjected quickly.

"Well, I was going to suggest, that we're from France, but do you know any languages beside English?" Malfoy raised his brows.

" _Yesss, I do..._ " Harry hissed in Parseltongue. Malfoy flinched, his face going white.

"R-right, forgot that one," he admitted. "And French?"

Harry shook his head in negative.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed exasperated.

"Well, there is this spell, which will allow you to talk in French and even sound like French-man talking English, but you won't like it," Draco supplied.

"Hmm?"

"It's not a Light spell. And is based on Blood magic," Draco dead-panned. "It'll even help your stupid story about us being twin brothers," he added unsure.

"How?"

"I know French from when I was three, started speaking it even before English, if Mother's to believe. I'd share blood with you. So in case they check if we are truly brothers at some point, the tests will show that we do share blood," Draco explained.

"And are you okay with it?" Harry wondered. "Just so you know I already share blood with somebody else," he shifted uncomfortably. "Hope, it won't affect this," he murmured uncertainly.

"Who is the lucky one?" Draco frowned.

"Voldemort," Harry snarled. "Back in fourth year he took my blood for resurrection," he made a face.

Draco shuddered, but pressed on.

"I have said I'll assist you, and I am not backing down."

"What about Dumbledore? He has already heard us speaking. It will be suspicious for our accents suddenly change," Harry contradicted weakly.

Draco scowled and hummed in thought, then his face brightened.

"Let's say, we were born here, but moved to France. Only one of our parents can be French, hence we speak fluently both languages, and the accents can appear from time to time. I think, I'd be able to alter the spell accordingly," he continued thoughtfully, "And the part with the blood is still useful."

"Fine," Harry grumbled. "It's not that I approve in general, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?"

Draco nodded fervently.

"If you please cut your palm? We need to mix our blood for this to work," touching his wand to his own palm, muttered Draco. "That Oath prevents me from harming you, even if it's to assist," he continued in a way of explanation, making a slicing motion with his wand and hissing, when the skin got cut. Holding up his slightly trembling hand to Harry, Draco winced apologetically, "you need to drink this, I am afraid. We don't have proper equipment or time for nice rituals and such."

Harry sighed and scrunched his nose, but obliged, then cut his own palm and threw a questioning look at Draco.

"Do you need to drink mine, to?"

"No," Draco gave a small shake of his head, then grabbed Harry's wrist and pressed his injured palm firstly to his own bloodied one, then switched hands and brought it to his temple, muttering incantation under his breath and weaving his wand with his good hand. Small puff of orange smoke emitted from its tip and went to Harry. "Breath in," Draco commanded softly. Harry obediently complied. "Hold it in," instructions went on, "and out," with the final swish of Draco's wand the smoke, which emerged from Harry's mouth, dissipated.

Harry felt light-headed for a moment, then all went back to normal.

"And now give me that," Draco grabbed him by the wrist once more and carefully glided his wand along the cut, closing it and healing, before he did the same with his own palm. "Here. All done! * _How do you feel?*_ " Harry heard a strange lilt in his voice and his eyes went wide in surprise.

"* _Is this French already?*_ " the corner of his mouth went up in a smirk.

Draco let out a short laugh, clearly proud of himself.

"You'll be switching to French, when addressed in the same language, just be careful, not to mix them. You'll learn how to distinguish after a bit. Unfortunately, it is not permanent," he frowned. "We'd need to renew it after a month or so. Though, we may not need to, if we succeed in our mission before that."

"I doubt that," Harry frowned. "One month is hardly enough."

"I agree."

They felt silent for some time. Then Draco started up.

"Let's go back to cover-story. What of our birthday? We need to agree on a date. Mine or yours?"

"Don't care. When's yours anyway?"

"The fifth of June."

"Let's make it yours then," Harry wave a hand in dismissal. "Mine's ' _when the seventh month dies_ '," he recited.

"What?" Draco blinked in confusion.

"Don't mind it," wincing said Harry. "So, the fifth of June, then?"

"We may choose something entirely different," Draco suggested, but Harry shook his head in negative.

"No, we need at least some true facts to hold onto. This should help to memorise the story. What other things do we need to cover?" he mused.

"Parents," Draco reminded. "Names, origin. Blood status..." he cut himself off, seeing Harry's angry glare. "It's important! Slytherins value the blood purity," he argued weakly.

"Who said anything about Slytherin?" Harry raised a brow.

"Are you suggesting I end up in Lions Den?" Draco exclaimed indignantly.

"You might," Harry chuckled, seeing true horror on Draco's face. "We're twins after all."

Draco's mouth twisted in disgust.

"Not all twins end up in the same House," he muttered stubbornly. "The Patils..."

"Well, I may land in Snakes Pit," Harry admitted soothingly, "If I hadn't argued with the Hat last time, I'd be in Slytherin, you know," he smirked. Draco shuddered at the prospect.

"I don't know what's worse," he muttered.

"I'd say I even will be glad, if we both go to Slytherin," Harry confessed. "Our goal is there, after all," he sent Draco a pointed look. "And I am afraid my current ways are not entirely Griffindorish. Take our cover-story, for instance. If the Hat wanted me there even the first time, I think now it's almost definite."

"Right. So, blood status?"

"Half-blood," immediately responded Harry. "Firstly, Voldemort is one. And also it would easier fit into our story, if our Father was muggleborn. That family name is too plain to be from wizarding world," he observed.

"That's your fault," mumbled Draco darkly. "But you're right. Though, you've said that was Father who charmed the port-key..."

"What of it? Muggle-born can't be powerful enough for such complicated magic?!"

"Fine, fine, don't start now!" Draco threw his arms in the air. "They can, okay? Let's move on. I'd like to get at least an hour of sleep, before the nurse comes back with our potions."

Harry nodded.

"Agreed. What is left?"

"Too much," Draco replied. "Parents' names?"

"John and Emily Just," Harry suggested.

"Emily is so not French," Draco snorted. "Jeanette?" he offered.

"Fine. Her family name, then?"

Draco frowned pensively.

"Lavie?" he drawled, stressing the last syllable.

"Okay. What else? Urgent, I mean. I don't think we'd be able to cover everything."

Draco sighed tiredly.

"I am out of ideas, actually. And bloody tired to death. Let's sleep, before the nurse comes. We'll think the rest over tomorrow."

Harry nodded and slipped lower on the bed, trying to make himself comfortable, cursing and hissing, while he did it.

"Sorry about that," Draco's remorse sounded genuine. "I have gone overboard," he mumbled.

"I was no better," Harry admitted, closing his eyes, then opened them again. "Shit! Draco, the wards!"

Draco groaned and waved his wand in tired motions, removing privacy and silencing spells.


End file.
